Sight
by RoyalJamboree
Summary: The little boy always saw more than he should.  The little boy always saw what Tom Riddle didn't want anyone to see.  Too bad, really...for that little boy.


_Disclaimer~ I don't own Harry Potter. _

_A/N~ This is for the Creepy Quotes Challenge by imdeadsothere, and my quote was 'Shoot me, and if I don't die, keep shooting until I'm dead'. I also had a lot of fun with a new style. Enjoy? :)_

**~Sight~**

On the very edge of the cliff, the pale setting sun outlined Tom Riddle's slender, standing figure. The light turned him into a black silhouette against the empty gray sky; it served to further detail his arrogantly raised chin, his defiantly crossed arms, and his proudly erect posture. Tom Riddle was beautiful; _yes_, he was much more beautiful than the sprawling landscape that his searching eyes raked over, much more beautiful than the glistening snow-covered hills or the glassy iced-over streams. His hair was _darker _and _sleeker_ than the impending night; his mind was _brighter_ than the Hogsmead lights that had just begun to flicker _so_ far away. What match was the natural world against him?

In Tom Riddle's long shadow, far away from the ledge's sheer drop, there was a single quivering bundle of _layers_ and scarves and fears; it was a third-year boy. The boy waited and watched, hardly daring to blink until Tom Riddle would allow the silence to shatter, but the silence seemed to press heavier and _heavier _into his ears every moment- until his eardrums were throbbing and bursting with the absence of sound...but the scared little boy kept waiting, kept watching the delicate wisps of breath dance from Tom Riddle's silhouetted lips. Those delicate wisps made Tom Riddle all. too. human...the _intimidating_, manipulative, Tom Riddle shouldn't have been able to do something so human as breathe.

But_ everyone_ loved Tom Riddle...the little boy shouldn't have ever said a word.

-"Are you ready?" Tom Riddle's calm and coaxing voice erupted into the world and the silence shattered along with the his ear drums.

Why didn't anyone else see it?

Worst of all, why did _Tom Riddle_ see that he saw it?

"I'll take that as a yes." Tom Riddle approached with quick, assured steps- too quick- too assured. The little boy's eyes snapped shut immediately as the sun's silhouetting effect fled Tom Riddle's frame. Tom Riddle's perfect features were still heavily shadowed, yes, but that was still too much to see, because beneath that genial smile...there was _manipulation_, destruction, **hate**- but no one else could see...

MinutesPassedBy; but it only seemed like a few heartbeats later until the scared little boy felt Tom Riddle shove an object into his hands- an object that made his skin want to shrivel up and peel away, because he _knew_ what it was. A _black_ loaded gun.

The muggle war invention was too heavy in the shaking hands of the scared little boy. His frail hands weren't meant to hold anything made purely to kill; they weren't yet stained and calloused enough, from years of _living_ and watching and **doing**, to ever yet touch something as unforgivable as the Killing Curse.

-"..Why?" The scared little boy asked- with his always _soft_ and always t_r_e_m_b_l_i_n_g voice- but the bitter wind swept his question far away, and Tom Riddle never heard him. Tom Riddle only resumed his position near the cliff edge and his _beautiful_ silhouette depicted arms opened wide with anticipation; his smooth voice was molded by lips spread wide into the _mockery_ of a smile.

-"Shoot me." He demanded and the third-year could almost feel the crazed glint in Tom Riddle's eyes. "_Now!_" Tom Riddle's order _ricocheted_ through the dead forest and boomed out over the cliff, _refusing_ to be swept away by the howling winds.

The scared little boy stopped thinking- stopped thinking about _murder_. The courageous little boy thought of the good he was doing for the **world**. Tom Riddle wasn't _human_, Couldn'tBeHuman, so it was okay, _wasn't it_?

The gun was aimed.

His eyes were shut.

He unlatched the safety.

He pulled the trigger.

THE **SHOT** _R A N G_!-

_-and..._

Silence.

Had he done it?

Had the _scared_.courageous.watchful little boy _killed_ Tom Riddle?

RepulsingRevolting hope rose in his small chest and it forced him to open his eyes, but that hope was swiftly destroyed when he saw Tom Riddle laughing _soundlessly,_ unharmed and impossibly alive. his perfect face was contorted with an ugly _maniacal _glee that the _terror_ stricken little boy had never once seen on any face before- no matter how beautifully perfect or grotesque.

-"…it worked…" Tom Riddle managed through fits of laughter that soon became too _loud_. too corrupt. too horrifying. His laughter was a shout at the world.

The little boy's heart _sunk_ into his stomach just as the gun had sunk into the snow.

He hadn't even been _aware_ of dropping the weapon- his only _falsehope._

_To be quite honest_, the scared little boy didn't remember much of _any_thing in the following moments- he just couldn't recall the reason as to _why_ he was convulsing and _screaming_ in the snow- and he couldn't remember _when_ Tom Riddle had ended up _towering_ over him with that _ohso_ perfect smile- and he _neverreallyknew_ how Tom Riddle's un-gloved hand had_ wrapped_ itself around his - frost - bitten - throat -

But he did remember, _all too clearly_, Tom Riddle's following words; words that were colder than the snow that would soon become his coffin.

..."_You_... you see too much..." -and the hand that was _harder than stone_ released his nearly crushed throat, but the little boy was too horrified to _move_, to escape, to live.

..."But I! I _hear_ too much, and I hear you saying '_Shoot me_…' ", Tom Riddle snatched the gun up from the snow, "…'and if I _don't die'_…" -and the frozen little boy's ears _rang_ with the sound of the safety lock _releasing_, but soon Tom Riddle's cruel laughter erased all the other sounds in the world, and the scared little boy would have sworn; sworn on his own _soul_; that the corrupt sounds _dancing_ from Tom Riddle's lips . s . t . o . p . p . e . d . his heart...and killed him _long_ before any of the bullets that later riddled his body ever would have.

..."…'keep_-shooting_-until-I'm-dead'…" - and Tom Riddle dropped the gun with an elegance unmatched.

His laughter died away and he watched the dead little boy's _lifeblood_ create brightred rivers in the brightwhite crystalline snow.

A smirk filled to the _brim_ with curious _contempt_ and hate and satisfaction; _yes_, one just like that, spread across Tom Riddle's rosyred cheeks as he turned away from the body of the dead-little-_boy_.

_TooSoonTooSoon_, thoughts of his **victory** over _muggles_ and their _sillylittle_ toys had already erased the notion of _murder_ from his mind.

-And _yes_; in the following years, Tom Riddle never again thought of the _child_ who saw. too. much- he had never even known the boy's name...


End file.
